


These Pants Make Me Look Fat

by verucasalt123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Dean Winchester, Comment Fic, Community: ohsam, Crying Sam Winchester, Cursed Sam, Dean Hates Witches, Ficlet, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, PMS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8298739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: This time around, Sam's the one who catches the curse.





	

It happened so fast, so fucking fast. One completely out of character remark from Sam, probably due to his anger seeing that the witch had sliced Dean's forearm open causing blood to spill onto the floor. "You curse like a _girl_ ", he'd sneered at the woman, as he readied himself to end her. Just before she disappeared into thin air, she replied with a laugh, "A girl! Yes! I'll make you bleed too."

And then she was gone. Dean stood shakily and Sam wrapped his arm in his flannel, hustling him back to the motel and stitching up the wound as efficiently as he could. 

"What do you think she meant? About making you bleed? She's gotta have a plan, I want to be ready when she comes back. I'm not letting that bitch do this to you, Sam."

"Just the witch-version of trash-talk, I'm sure. I feel fine, nothing's wrong. We'll find her. Let's just get some rest now, all right?"

Dean couldn't agree more, and after giving his brother another once-over for anything out of the ordinary, he got into bed and fell right to sleep.

As the sunlight started filtering through the paper-thin curtains of their room, Dean moaned and rolled over. His arm still hurt like a bitch but it didn't feel hot or itchy so he figured there was no infection or anything. Scrubbing at his eyes, he got up and took a piss. Walking back into the main part of the room, he tried to stay quiet so he didn't wake -

Sam.

Oh shit. 

Sam.

Still out like a light, covered halfway by a sheet. 

With hair long enough to brush his shoulders, his boxers hanging loose around his much smaller waist and an objectively nice set of tits resting against the chest that had been flat and muscled when they got into bed last night.

Mind reeling, he tried to think of his best course of action. He had to wake Sam but he didn't want to freak him out any more than he obviously already would be. 

"Wake up, Sammy."

Sam opened his eyes - her eyes - Dean was already not sure what kind of pronouns he was supposed to use. Almost more than the physical changes, he was completely unprepared for Sam's voice when he stirred, realized something was off, shook the hair out of his face and looked down at his new rack, saying, "What the fuck?" in a voice that was decidedly not his. 

"That witch, I know, you felt fine last night but...this has to be her. She must have cursed you into...into, uh...whatever this-"

And then Dean stopped talking because his brother burst into tears.

Through the sobs, Dean managed to recognize a few phrases. 

“How could she do this to me?”

“I can’t just be – it’s not – not fair, it’s so _mean_!”

Clutching his breasts (and how fucked up was that just all by itself), “They hurt. God, they hurt, they feel so fucking heavy, that can’t be like a regular girl, right? She made me a girl with weird hurty boobs!”

Still crying but calming down just a little, Sam finally looked up and said “Dean. I don’t feel good.”

“Of course you don’t feel good, Sam, you’re fucking cursed! Turned into a girl! Jesus! I’m gonna hunt that thing down, I swear to-”

Then he got cut off again as Sam’s face turned even more horrified and he stuck his hand into his boxers. And yeah, for sure, definitely all girl if the terror in his expression meant what Dean thought it did. 

“No, I mean, I feel, like – sick or something. My stomach is all cramped up like I’ve been puking but I’m starving. And my skin feels tight all over. Look at my fingers! They’re swollen! ” His bottom lip was still quivering and he wrapped his sheet around him, seemingly not wanting to expose himself. 

The witch’s words came back to Dean then, and he listed Sam’s symptoms in his mind. Cramps. Voracious appetite. Painful breasts. Hysterical tears. And oh, now it was on, _seriously_ on, because she’d given Dean a sister with hardcore PMS. When she’d said she was going to make Sam bleed…

When Dean outlined his theory, Sam just started to cry again. And ok, he never had a sister before, but he knew how to deal with this. Telling Sam he was going to make a run to the store, he handed him the box of Kleenex that was sitting on the counter by the sink and said, “Just try to take it easy. We’re going to fix this, I swear. But just in case I can’t fix it before – well, you know, before you…anyway, I’m gonna go get some things you might need. Is there anything you want?”

“No”, Sam pouted. 

“Wait, yes. A bag of those chocolate-covered pretzels, the kind in the blue bag. **Not** the white bag, the blue one. And some popsicles. And a magazine. (Dean hadn’t seen Sam read a magazine…well, ever) Oh, and an iced coffee. A big one.”

Dean sighed and grabbed his keys. He walked confidently through the Walgreen’s and threw Sam’s requests into a basket, along with some chemical heat packs, a bottle of Midol, some water with added vitamins and…okay, this was the hard part. He passed by the tampons with a full-body shudder and plucked a box of pads from the shelf, hoping like hell they wouldn’t be needed.

Returning to the motel room, he found Sam curled into a ball under the covers in giant sweats and a t-shirt, watching a movie about a woman whose child had been kidnapped by her evil ex-husband, little _Lifetime_ logo clear at the bottom of the television screen. 

With deliberate care, he sat down and moved Sam into a sitting position. Using an ace bandage from their med-kit, he wrapped Sam’s boobs to try and relieve some of the pressure. Then, he got him to swallow a couple of Midol and broke the chemical pack, pressing it against Sam’s stomach and holding it in place with the elastic waistband of his pants. He kept the pads hidden. 

As Sam sucked on his coffee drink and shoveled chocolate-covered pretzels into his mouth, he offered up a wary smile. “Thanks, Dean.”

“No sweat, Samantha”, Dean replied with a wary smile of his own. “Just try to relax for now. Can I do anything else for you?”

Looking a little embarrassed, Sam replied, “Watch the movie with me?” as he pulled back the covers and scooted over to make room for Dean next to him. 

All right, whatever it took to get Sam through this day, Dean was going to do it. But tonight, that witch was going _down_. If he had to actually hand those pads over to Sam, there was probably going to be some kind of nuclear meltdown on both their parts. Neither of them wanted to acknowledge Sam’s lack of his usual equipment. It was probably the scariest part of this whole thing.

For now, Dean just got under the covers and didn’t try to steal any of Sam’s snacks as he caught up on the story of this poor woman’s quest for justice. He was going to get his own brand of justice later when he found that damn witch.


End file.
